Here We Rest

Lightning Rod;
2011

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It's a hard truth, but so far Jason Isbell's solo career hasn't lived up to the promise he showed during his short tenure with Drive-By Truckers. When he left the group in 2007, he had held his own in a group full of top-shelf rock songwriters, displaying a flair for quiet drama and telling details. Out of the gate he started strong on Decoration Day in 2003 and owned The Dirty South the next year; "Outfit" may be his most quoted song, but "Danko/Manuel", ostensibly about the tragic Band members, was a better mission statement about saving a bit of yourself away from the gigs. A Blessing and a Curse sounded like rut in 2006, not just for Isbell but for the Truckers as a unit. The band immediately rebounded with one of the best albums of their formidable catalog, while Isbell, going solo, apparently took Blessing as a template, releasing solo albums with only a handful of memorable songs mixed in among rote southern rock.

Granted, that's pretty much what he was doing in the Truckers, but without company from Patterson Hood and Mike Cooley, Isbell must now carry an entire album by himself. Three albums in, it might seem unfair to still compare his solo output to his Truckers material, but Isbell simply hasn't yet given us a reason to forget those years or to rethink that particular context. Here We Rest doesn't change that midline trajectory; as with Sirens of the Ditch in 2007 and the self-titled follow-up in 2009, his third album has some great songs that capture the spirit and pace of life in the New New South, that evoke real characters in real predicaments, that lodge into your brain alongside his best material. Unfortunately, it has many other songs that don't.

First, the good: Opener "Alabama Pines" is a soft-spoken lament about a man so lonely he says he doesn't even need a name, and Isbell makes the chorus-- which ushers the character back home through the Yellowhammer State wilderness-- sound quietly moving, as if such memories are all the man has anymore. Similarly, "Codeine" puts us immediately in a character's point of view, one so well drawn he feels comfortable, if not familiar. The song's a stand-out not just for the humor and peculiarity of the details, but for the way Isbell puts listeners right in the moment. Opening with a complaint about a bad cover band bumbling through "Castles Made of Sand", Isbell evokes an entire world through one sad man's eyes, with a sing-song chorus whose catchiness only underscores its tragedy.

The 400 Unit prove to be an agile backing band, able to move resourcefully from the loping melody of "Codeine" to the upbeat throwback country of "Never Could Believe" and the gentle reminiscence of "We've Met". Trying out various styles but never fully embracing them, they sound more slick than soulful, although that may be the fault of their too-crisp production, which rarely sounds live. At times, however, Isbell struggles to keep up. His voice possesses a distinctive rasp that easily evokes his character's dead-end struggles, whether it's their devotion to a drug-addicted woman or their allegiance to a disappearing way of life. The downside is that his vocal range is limited. He can't pull off the sentimental "Daisy Mae" at all, and struggles with tricky rhythms of "Never Could Believe" and the generic country-soul of "Heart on a String". Although he's now logged as much time as a solo artist as he did with his former band, Isbell sounds he's still finding his voice.